Posted by Ulrikis on July 13, 2000 at 20:19:10:
In Reply to: A Role posted by Macheath on July 11, 2000 at 21:15:10:
A damned fine role indeed. I am just now begining to learn how to use a role in such a way. If perhpas more people posted roles such as this, then others would also seek to improve their standards when fleshing out a character. Just wanted to say good job cause it takes no small about of work to come up with a role such as this. Hope to see him around. > <100%hp 100%m 100%mv> role > Perhaps he had been intended for greatness. Perhaps fated for glory in war, or > He was indeed slated to arrive in his mother's bedchamber on the sixteenth day > Born on the last day of the Month of Futility, held from majesty and repute by a > Added Sat Jul 8 15:36:35 2000 at level 11: > At the top of the Seantryn Modan magic academy, housed within the awe-inspiring > Unlike most buildings, which expand outward or not at all, the Tower of Sorcery > The svirf maid cleaning the Tower on that day had heard quite a splendid joke > Only as her cleaning tool made the satisfying squishing noise of contact with > Added Sat Jul 8 15:37:48 2000 at level 11: > As the thaumaturgic circle suddenly snapped into place below Feeble's feet, he > He smirked lightly despite his intense level of concentration. Keeping his eyes > As he finished the words, he found himself disappointed to have heard neither a > Suddenly, remembering the thaumaturgic circle of protection, Feeble regained a > When the winged morosa finished its meal, it turned its attention back toward > Added Sat Jul 8 15:39:43 2000 at level 11: > And so, finally, Roerich slipped away from his overprotective mother for an > After this chilling encounter, Roerich found himself stunned and wandering the > Squeezing its way through the front entryway of the Tower was a massive creature > Added Sat Jul 8 15:42:53 2000 at level 11: > -*You'll make a poor meal, human.*- > That was it. That was the message that had come specially to Roerich through > -*You are Roerich Krumm. I have heard the name.*- > Silently, Roerich screamed to himself. He could not have screamed out loud if > -*You are blessed, and also very deeply cursed. I smell the taint upon your > And then, just as Roerich began to fear that he might suffer either permanent
> Your role is:
> Added Fri Jul 7 10:14:37 2000 at level 11:
> Roerich Gottlieb Klopstock Krumm was born eighteen years ago in the tiny village
> of Aturi on the Day of Deception, thirty-fifth day of the Month of Futility.
> And that is the story of his life.
> renown and celebrity in some other worthwhile pursuit. Surely a boy born
> squarely in the middle of the legend-making Month of the Dragon needed no
> prophetic declaration of his own. Llorenthos, the famed 'Executioner' of the
> Empire... the magnanimous Apostle Saerin... the almost obscenely dedicated
> Leader of the Tower, Mijzu... Kantherion, the last paladin of the Iron-Bound
> Gauntlet, fearsome and tyrannical Arbiter Lord... all of them were born in the
> great Month of the Dragon, were they not? In fact, a great many of Thera's most
> influential heroes and villains have their deepest roots in this noble month.
> Roerich Krumm does not.
> of the Month of the Dragon (or thereabouts) until she took dreadfully ill, at
> which time a premature birth was induced by the village surgeon's attentions.
> All in Aturi praised the doctor for saving the life of both mother and child,
> and when she was well enough to dance, a lavish celebration was held in their
> honor. The implications on a certain newborn babe's life to come went largely
> unheralded.
> tether of ailing flesh only a few hours long, Roerich's life began with a
> festival.
> -THE CLEANING WENCH-
> Tower of Sorcery, a cleaning wench went about her job as normal. Tiny droplets
> of sweat formed upon her tiny svirfneblin forehead as she dutifully mopped up
> the chunks of flesh and pools of blood which decorated the Stairs to the Astral.
> Flesh both mortal and extraplanar was strewn about by the failed conjurations of
> the men and women of the guild on this, the uppermost floor.
> continually adds new floors. Those who find themselves on Hemlock Road during
> the pre-dawn are often shocked to discover a taller tower after such an
> expansion. The conjurers' guild was just such a surprise. While Seantryn did
> its best to 'grow accustomed' to its new Tower-floor, conjurers repeatedly added
> a bit of spice to its life in the form of massive fireballs containing Ancient
> Demon Lords materializing occasionally directly over the city's epicenter.
> about the guild, in a bar that morning, involving three angels and a homonculus.
> She failed to see the humor in it, as svirfneblin are often wont to do, and had
> plans to report it to the guildmaster as soon as he arrived. As she was slowly
> descending the Stairs to the Astral, she planned how to approach the lofty
> guildmaster. While scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain on the Stairs of
> Acid, she quietly composed her opening greeting, and the first few sentences of
> her meticulously planned speech were forming just as she finished the Stairs of
> Faith. Working her way down the Stairs of Flame, she put the penultimate
> touches on what was certain to be one of the finest extemporaneous briefings
> ever heard, and it was quite finished as her wet mop met the lobby floor.
> cold stone did she realize that in her preoccupied state of mind, she'd left her
> mopping bucket at the top of the tower. Horrible enlightening realization made
> its slow spread across her mind like a cold blanket. Without fresh water
> renewing her mop's effectiveness, all she'd managed to do this whole time was
> spread a disgusting trail of blood down the entire length of the tower.
> -THE DEMON-
> shivered in anticipation of what was to come. He'd show his guildmaster his
> true worth, and show the entire guild that he didn't deserve his ridiculous
> nickname. Feeble had pilfered a scrap of paper with some terrifying-looking
> symbols on it the night before. He'd no idea what it said at the time, but gold
> could buy many things on the streets of Seantryn Modan during the twilight
> hours. Finding someone to translate the chickenscratch hadn't been a problem.
> Finding enough capital to pay the gypsy had proven more difficult, but she'd
> grudgingly accepted half the amount originally requested when Feeble brandished
> his dagger in her direction.
> closed, he began incanting the words the gypsy woman had helped him learn. It
> was a powerful chant, a phrase capable of summoning a more fearsome demon than
> his guildmaster had yet discovered. Surely THAT would impress the old crank.
> thunderclap nor the sound of a roaring Arch-Duke of Hades... but when his eyes
> pried themselves open for the tiniest of peeks, he found himself face to face
> with a terrible slobbering black-winged demon. Its huge eyes bulged outward
> from its misshapen face, glowering at him in a manner which chilled his soul.
> His knees quaked as the winged morosa demon grinned morbidly and arched its
> horned wings over its head, stretching them to fill nearly the entire width of
> the laboratory.
> small measure of his composure and demanded that the demon obey him. It
> fluttered its huge, heavy eyelashes at him in what he could only determine to be
> a confused blink. The zephyr stirred up by this massive motion of meaty demon
> eyelids stroked Feeble's cheeks and forehead. And Feeble wondered why the demon
> was turning to walk out of the laboratory. He took a step to follow,
> overwhelmed by the discordant situation, and abruptly the demon rounded on him.
> His last thoughts before being eaten were: 'Ah, yes. Darkbind. How could I
> have forgotten? How very feeble of me.'
> what had attracted it to the stairway. The scent of blood was heavy there, and
> it hungered for a corpse to sustain itself. If it couldn't find a corpse at the
> end of this trail, it would merely find a way to make one when it got there.
> Simple enough.
> -ROERICH-
> For the past several months, Roerich had been subjected to every kind of
> embarrassment and agony fathomable, and some kinds which were simply
> incognizable. Uncanny bad luck seemed to follow this undersized, underdeveloped
> boy - barely into his teens - wherever he went. He was by nature small and
> frail, a willowy youth at best. Around the time that his thrice-broken arm was
> nearly burned off by a very close-by lightning strike (on a clear day,
> nonetheless), Roerich began to suspect something. Indeed, he became quite
> suspicious about the way fate had laid tragic events upon his doorstep, one
> after another.
> evening, and warily picked his way along the road to the perilous city of
> Seantryn Modan. There, he met covertly with a shamanistic woman of questionable
> lineage in order to discover his predetermination. She gesticulated her way
> through all manners of archaic, druidic, cabalistic, occultic rituals, finally
> heaving her chest mightily with the effort and delivering a resolution with an
> uncomfortable shift of her rump: Roerich had been blessed with a great vision -
> a vision of unclouded truth. Within him lurked the ability to divine the bleak
> sense behind all of creation, weave it together into a logical progression, and
> understand what the gods had done with the world. Predictably, some gods of the
> mighty pantheon were angered by such an unexpected development and thus, he had
> been cursed as well. In order to expedite his demise and the disappearance of
> his unrealized talent, he had been smitten with unthinkably bad luck.
> streets of Seantryn with no particular destination in mind. As he stumbled
> along, his mind raced... how long could he survive, cursed as he was? Why had
> he been given such a burden to bear, and what in the name of Asgaard was this
> ultimate vision of truth he was supposed to be having? Eventually, and some
> might say inevitably given his predisposition, Roerich found himself directly
> in front of the Tower of Sorcery, staring straight into the gaping maw of the
> mystical heart of Seantryn Modan. There, he was jerked from his nightmarish
> reverie by a scream which made his blood run cold.
> with horns and wings, black as night with wispy tufts of shock white hair all
> about its person. Hideously, it was busily stuffing a pair of tiny feet between
> its jaws. Slowly masticating upon its sumptuous meal, the demon coolly regarded
> Roerich, who found himself riveted to the street with fear. Thick tendrils of
> fear, in fact, were forcing their way into his every orifice and invading his
> already shattered peace of mind with a suffocating grip. The demon, having
> newly supped upon two corpses, had no further need for sustenance. Instead, it
> decided to save Roerich for later, bundling him up in its massive arms, and took
> flight to the north.
> When Roerich regained consciousness again some time later, he found that he did
> not like his predicament. Sitting in a pitch black cave, his sense of sight
> entirely deprived of input, he relied on his ears to sense what might be nearby.
> He heard the light rustle of leaves mingling with the sound of crashing ocean
> waves, together softly and sweetly underlying the filthy, rasping, rattling
> noise of mucus-impeded breathing which seemed to gurgle out from somewhere
> behind him. And then, a demon's voice abruptly sounded out. It was an
> atrocious screaming sound, which seemed to come from a hundred parched and
> bleeding throats all at once. At the same time, however, Roerich heard
> perfectly formed words resonating inside his skull:
> nine circles of the Abyss, for which he had been abducted and much blood had
> been shed. 'How perfectly fitting,' he thought. Roerich began to hope that the
> demon would simply kill him, poor meal or not. It would bring him much relief,
> and certainly, a little known runt such as himself would be missed by no one.
> he'd wanted to.
> soul.*- Roerich imagined he could hear the demon smirking in the dark, inches
> from his own face. The demon's breath felt like a fist on his cheek. -*I have
> made the decision to end your life for you. Are you pleased?*- For a moment,
> Roerich's heart leapt with joy... and then cold reality set in. -*It will,
> however, not be so easy as that. Inflicting suffering is sometimes much more
> enjoyable than inflicting death. Particularly in cases such as yours.*- A
> chuckle which sounded like snapping bones ground its way through the air. -*You
> will die... but no time soon, I'm afraid. When you come of age, you may begin
> to fear for your life. But after that, your death may come in the form of a
> murder, or in the form of a falling tree. It may come in a day, or in a
> century. When it comes, though, it will be... amplified by my touch. And you
> may be assured that I will be there to watch and escort your soul to Hades for
> an eternity of torment.*-
> deafness from the demon's voice or madness from having its words planted in his
> mind, the nightmarish creature was gone. It had not announced its departure,
> and its leaving was accompanied by neither flash nor bang nor sudden rush of
> air. Roerich took advantage of the unforseen stillness by lying down to weep.